Fields of Innocence
by WolfAngel'JR
Summary: Even the biggest horror fan can't handle everything, in a world where monsters and ghosts really exist. A part in a series about my werewolf character. This story goes through most of the full moon / Halloween week. I'm not entirely sure what I want from this - but in the least this will be a little story about Halloween time through the eyes of a child in the Potter universe.
1. Prologue

**Characters:** Only my original characters.  
**Length:** Prologue + 5 chapters.  
This story is just one part in a series I'm writing about these characters.  
**Extras:** I've made a few videos about Hunter and his family. You can find them on YouTube under my username wolfoutlaw, by keywords "hunter harry potter oc".

**A/N** IMPORTANT: The werewolf vision in these stories is mostly mine and not official/from the books. Mostly.  
So, please don't copy from it unless you can verify that the detail is Rowling's. Thank you. **A/N  
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**FIELDS OF INNOCENCE**

**Prologue**

He'd never seen anything like it in all his ten years and eight months in this world. Even being attacked by a werewolf a few years ago hadn't been as terrifying as what he was witnessing now. Or, maybe he'd just blocked that night out of his mind almost completely, it was a blur by now.  
Hunter stared in terror and disbelief at the scene right in front of his eyes. How can one girl have that much blood inside her? What was that thing that was dragging her all over the room? Even though he couldn't see it at the moment it had looked human but it couldn't be, could it? It looked disgusting, and as it was multilating the girl it behaved and panted in a disturbing way he couldn't quite understand. It didn't sound like your typical monster. It was...it was...no, his ten-year old mind just couldn't make anything out of it.  
The boy was frozen on the spot, every muscle tense, adrenalin taking over his body, ready to send him running for his life. There was no way he could ever bring himself to do anything else now. Besides, th girl's boyfriend was there, surely a teenager would be much more help to her. Although all either one of them could do was scream. The atmosphere was the darkest and most hopeless he ever remembered experiencing. He didn't want to see any of it but his eyes refused to look away.  
Fortunately, he thought, he had caught this while himself in the darkness of the next room. He was lying there on his stomach, hiding behind a corner. His black swishy hair, dark blue jeans and black hoodie allowed him to blend into the darkness quite well. And though he was closer to eleven than ten, he was only about the size of an average eight-year-old. His intense eyes had pure brown around the pupils, and a stripe of pure blue across the otherwise grayish-green iris. But in whatever little light the murder room provided they appeared just brown, as they did in most lightings unless looked at from up close.  
He felt sick. There was blood all over the place, on the walls, in the ceiling, on the bed and the floor. The screaming of the teenagers had become just an intense loud sound in his ears, it didn't sound human anymore.  
The surely dead, bloody and multilated girl fell on the bed, splattering the large pool of her blood all over her boyfriend.

"AAAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!" Hunter screamed at the top of his lungs as he felt someone or something appear behind him, bounced up on his feet and ran upstairs, noticing that he wasn't doing so alone. He'd forgotten that his friend had been lying right beside him.

"What the-? Jamie!" a woman called angrily to the seventeen-year old girl who was sitting there with her friend. "I told you not to let the little kids watch this!"

"What?" Jamie uttered as she snapped back to reality, she too had been completely into the scene. "The little-? Mum! Did it _seem_ like we were _letting_ them?!" she defended herself, realizing that her little brother and his friend had probably been hiding somewhere.

"Well," their mother continued but the boys didn't hear the rest as they slammed the door shut behind them as they reached their safety.

"It's just a movie, it isn't real!" Jamie's little brother reminded them, out of breath as if they'd just ran hundred meters.

"Are you sure, Jake?" Hunter asked as he leaned against the closed door. His friend had sounded quite convinced although was clearly as terrified as he was. He had also, until this moment, almost completely forgotten that he'd been watching a movie. For one, because the scene had been so utterly intense and well-filmed. Part of him must've known, though, as he hadn't ran sooner.  
"I mean, it could be one of those...what are they called...? Uh...Snuff...Yeah, snuff-films! Where they make it seem like a made-up movie but in fact they are really killing people!"  
He had once read about those in a movie magazine.

"But...But that guy was _invisible_! He killed kids in their _dreams_! That can't be real!" Jake insisted, his voice trembling. "Can it...?"  
He eyed his bed wanting to climb on it and hug his pillow for comfort but a part of him refused to go anywhere near a bed. The suspicion pushed cold sweat on his forhead, his almost shoulder-length blonde hair rose a little while violent creeps went down his spine. Unlike Hunter, he was the avergae size of someone their age but at the moment he felt very small.

Hunter let himself slide down along the door and sat on the floor in front of it. He wasn't showing many physical signs of terror apart from being extremely pale and having a terrified expression on his face. "I know..." he commented as he stared in front of him distant look in his eyes, but sounded like he didn't know, or perhaps knew more than Jake. And he did. After all, he wasn't only a werewolf. He was a wizard, most of his family had been magical for countless geenrations. So he knew that many creatures in addition to themseleves – the wizards and witches - muggles thought to be nothing more but fairytales and myths, were actually real. Werewolves, vampires, hags, trolls, ogres, boogiemen...And so many creatures muggles – that is non-magical people – hadn't even thought of! So...Was it really that far-fetched to consider that thing from that movie might be real, too? Or at least inspired by something similar. Anyway, he couldn't start and try convincing his friend, as Jake and his family were all muggles, completely unaware of the magical society.

He heard muffled discussion from downstairs, Jake's mother sounded still upset about them having been watching a movie for adults. Literally it was for adults, it was rated for those eighteen or over.  
"Do you think your mum would let me stay another night?" he asked Jake after glancing at his Batman wrist watch. It said quarter to six and he was supposed to be home by six. It was Sunday, so there was also the question would his dad let him spend away from home what was a school night.  
"We could keep each other awake," he suggested, as neither one of them were entirely convinced that it was safe to fall asleep. It didn't matter the least bit that they had slept safely for over ten years.

"Yeah. She usually blames Jamie for stuff like this, so I think we're off the hook," Jake answered, glad to get something else to think of instead of seeing the guy's weird face and the bloody gruesome scene over and over in his head. "I'll ask," he said and Hunter moved away from the door.

"No, wait!" Hunter said suddenly. "I forgot something I have to do at home tonight. I can't stay, or at least I have to go home for a while first," he explained as he climbed on the black chair in front of Jake's desk. How could he have forgotten? That the moon was almost full and he had to drink that most disgusting potion for seven nights up to the night of full moon, in order to keep the wolf from taking completely over. If even one night was skipped, the potion would become useless and the wolf would be free. Last winter he had deliberately skipped one and...and it wasn't what he'd hoped for. And the punishment afterwards had been very severe. He was not about to repeat those mistakes. He'd decided he wouldn't experiment with the potion until he was eighteen and had his own place to live. And when he hopefully would have more knowledge and magical skills. When no one would have to find out.  
"But I'll ask dad if I could come back, and call you later." he said and looked out of the window. It was the first half of twilight, in a few minutes it would get remarkably darker...almost total darkness. He didin't usually mind darkness – not after age five or so – but suddenly he felt like staying home after all, if he made it there. He didn't want to walk back here alone. In fact, he was tempted to ask Mrs. Williams to drive him home. Even though he lived five minutes away, on the next street.  
No, they shouldn't let her know the movie had freaked them out so royally. Play it down, so maybe she won't make a big deal about it either.

"Oh, okay," Jake said, and dared to sit on his bed. Just on the edge, though.

"You boys okay?" his mother called out to them as she knocked on the door and then opened it, peaking in.

"Fine! It's just a movie, we know," the boys said in union, trying to sound careless. And managing to quite well as the discussion had calmed their nerves a little.

"Good," she sighed, believing every word. "Hunter, it's always great to have you here but it's getting late," she then said, giving the boy a warm smile.

"I know, I've already packed most of my stuff," he stated and gestured towards his light blue denim backpack that sat in front of the drawers of the desk. "I'll be leaving in a few minutes."  
He desperately fought the desire to ask for a ride, trying to focus on looking around so he wouldn't forget anything. Not that it really mattered as they were neighbours and even in the same class in the same school so there'd be no need to return if he remembered something important half way home.  
Mrs. Williams left and returned downstairs and the boys looked at each other in silence for a moment, trying to decide what they wanted.

"You know, we could at least talk on the phone all night," Jake suggested.

"Good idea," Hunter said, picking up the backbag and rose from the chair. Although their land-liner phone had a moveable handle that could be taken anywhere inside the house, he couldn't possibly chat in the comfort of his room because his dad's room was right next to his, just a hallway and a narrow loft in between. But maybe he could sneak downstairs at some point.

"Bye, Mrs. Williams, thanks for having me!" Hunter shouted as he sat on the entrance hall floor, his backbag and beige autumn coat on, and putting on his blue Adidas dragon sneakers with neon green inside. They didn't have laces as most of his shoes didn't. Of which he was especially glad now that he didn't want to waste precious seconds on them. Of course he could tie shoe laces with ease, he just didn't care for having to. Sticker-ties didn't open so easily and were much faster to fix if they sometimes did.  
Seconds later, he grabbed his black cap with a Mickey Mouse picture on the front, from the coathanger, put it backwards on his head and was out the front door. He waited for a moment before he closed the door and left the comforting, warm light of the entrance hall lamp behind. The boy stood there on the doorstep, just listening carefully and looking around. Tonight he was also grateful for the hightened senses the wolf gave him, all year round even. His night vision was much better than normal humans had, his hearing was even more so, as was his sense of smell.

The street of course looked nothing like the one in the movie, the one the girl had wandered on just before attacked by that...thing. After all, it happened somewhere in America and he lived in what he considered the best place in the world – London, England. More specifically in Sutton, that was generaly thought to be one of the safest and best places for families with children. But tonight this street _felt_ like a death trap. Especially in knowing that there were monsters in this world and they could really be anywhere.  
He had met a hag once but it was a few years ago on Diagon Alley, and those creatures didn't usually show their faces in muggle areas. The werewolf he'd encountered remained the only one so far and surely he'd be safe from them now, as he was one of them, he thought. And it wasn't even full moon yet. He'd never met a vampire. And that, he thought, was the biggest threat even now. He had grabbed some garlic from Jake's kitchen and slipped then into his coat's pockets just in case. He didn't usually think of vampires after darkness started to fall or fear them much. Not after he was bitten by the werewolf. He was convinced that it somehow made him special in the eyes of other magical creatures. But tonight it all seemed very different. There, in the dark outdoors. Minutes away from the safety of his house and protection of his family. While that burnt man, creature, thing, could still be real and didn't seem anything like those creatures he knew existed for sure.

He pinched himself hard to make sure he wasn't asleep, and then finally took a few steps on the driveway, towards the street. Constantly he looked around, nervously listening, holding tight onto the shoulder straps of his backbag. Slowly he made his way to the street. There was nothing but the sound of cars far away in the distance, closer to the center of the town. He wasn't sure if he was happy about the unoccupied streets of the suburb. His pace fastened as he walked away from his friend's house, and so did the rate of his heartbeat. Especially when his ears caught footsteps behind him, and soon after followed a metallic noise much like the falling cap of the garbage can on the alley in the movie. He could tell they were still tens of meters away. But if it was that thing, it could appear anywhere at any time! So he sprung into running like he'd never ran before, passing streetlamp after streetlamp, hating every second he had to spend in the dark areas in between them. He didn't slow down even though he noticed neighbours on their yards, some leaving, some returning home.

In a couple of minutes he reached the familiar house, relieved to have the motion-triggered yard light turn on. He dug the key from his coat's pocket and violently pushed it into its hole in the front door. In the hurry it took longer to actually get the door open. He let out the f-word that had repeated in his mind for the past few seconds, and it seemed as if it was the so-called magic word because just then the door opened.  
Finally he found himself in the warm, calm entrance hall of his sweet, sweet home. For a moment he leaned against the door leading to the outter entrance room, that he'd just slammed shut unnecessarely loud. He pinched himself again, to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep, somehow accidentally. After all, they hadn't slept much last night as such thing would've been total waste of sleepover time.  
He was still awake.  
Hunter sighed deep in relief and closed his eyes.

"Welcome home, buddy," his father, thirty-nine, greeted him happily as he descented the stairs from upstairs where he'd just been to call his daughter to dinner. "Hungry? Dinner's ready just now," he asked as he passed the boy on his way to the dining room. This little moment made Hunter immediately feel much safer. His dad was the one person in his life who never failed to make him feel safe, no matter what, without even knowing it. The man was a powerful wizard, experienced and good police officer with a self-confident, gentle, and respect-stirring genral being while also tall and strong. But most importantly, he was a very loving and dedicated parent who, though was not perfect, must've had great role models in his own childhood. Hunter had never met any of them but he knew that his first name, Stephen, had been given after his father's grandfather.

"No, I'm really not," Hunter replied, sounding very serious. "I ate at Jake's," he added trying to make the decline sound less out of ordinary as he dropped his backbag under the coathanger and started to take off his coat. He actually hadn't eaten dinner at all but only some bread, because Jake's mum had been stupid and cooked liver. That should be illegal. Even if for lunch she'd treated them with McDonald's frood. He just knew that if he revealed he hadn't eaten an actual dinner and only junk food, dad would make him eat at least a little - and he couldn't swallow a thing after that murder scene. Of course he'd seen gruesome pictures and secretly read of brutal murders in horror themed books. He wasn't easily scared or anything like this – for one, one of his favourite books (that he secretly read from time to time) was his name-sake Stephen King's _Cycle of the Werewolf_. And of course he'd seen some blood and violence in movies. But they were nothing like that movie.

"Hey, what's your newest plan? You know _Silver Bullet_ is on tonight," his eight-year old sister asked as she made her way downstairs, tying her long blonde hair into a pony tail, her blue eyes twinkling happily. She was always interested in and entertained by her brother's creative ways to try and watch movies he wasn't allowed to, preferably at night. Just that, most of the times their father outwitted him. She just knew that this time Hunter would try anyway, because it was a werewolf movie.

"It depends," Hunter stated as he hung his coat on the hanger, glancing at her, not really believeing she expected him to reveal his plans here and now. Their house wasn't small but not exactly large either, so this discussion might be heard all the way in the kitchen that was located across the dining room. "Whether he just hides the antenna cord or actually stays up late."  
Freya shook her head, mostly to herself as she made her way to the dining room, wondering how long that battle of wills would go on. More than likely, she thought, until Hunter was actually old enough to watch those movies.  
And He really hoped tonight the case would be the first mentioned because all he really wanted was to stay up all night himself without having to constantly pretend that he wasn't. For the first time in his life, he felt like he'd had enough horror for one night, and wasn't so eager to catch a movie on TV. Although, the positive energy his family seemed to be having tonight made him feel a bit better.

While Jacob and Freya dined and their calm chatter flowed from the room, bleeps and bloops met it from the living-room across the hall where Hunter was sitting in front of a Commodore 64 computer and his hand guided a joystick, his eyes fixed at the TV screen. But a happy gaming session soon turned ill when even the _Pac-Man_ ghosts started to remind him of the nameless terror that was the guy with knives for fingernails or something. For the concept of the game kind of reminded him of dream world, but then again that was the case with most video games' designs.  
Until tonight he'd been absolutely convinced that there was no horror movie or book that could scare him too much. He was quite sure that this that had turned out to prove him wrong, was the first part of a movie seires that was hugely popular and still ongoing. But he hadn't managed to see or know details about it before tonight - although he'd been into horror movies since he was seven. He just had msotly cared about monster movies and tried to secretly watch them, while in the impression that the _Nightmare on Elm Street_ series didn't have exactly monsters. And dad had succesfully minimized his exposure to too mature content. And now he was grateful for that. He couldn't imagine having seen that at age seven. As much as he loved werewolf gore, that had turned out to _so_ not be the same.  
Searching through their quite large collection of Commodore games he found one that was perfect for this situation. One so awesome it was hard not to skip school sometimes to play it for hours, one in which absolutely nothing about it should in any way remind of horror...And in a few minutes he had been sucked into the addictive world of _Bubble Bobble_. Running around as a cute dragon, blowing bubbles at enemies to turn them into fruits and drinks an all sorts of goods quickly relaxed him back to his old self while the mind-numbingly happy music erased any traces of distress.

"Hunter, time to turn it off," Jacob said from the doorway and immediately disappeared back to the kitchen where he was preparing the kids' lunches for school.

"Already? But it's not even-!" the boy started to argue until he glanced at the mantel clock on the fireplace. It claimed it was 7:40 PM already and he was always expected to calm down from certain types of activities well before bedtime. But there was no way he could tonight if he had to give up this game.  
Having no choice, relucantly he turned off the computer and television, until he remembered he'd promised to call Jake. The boy left the gaming spot as it was, planning to return to it later when everyone else was asleep, and went for the phone in the entrance hall.

Moments later he was lying on his back, on his bed, and dialing Jake's number. All possible lights in his room were on, even a flash-light he had laid on the foot of his bed. He gave another thought to asking permission to spend another night at Jake's, but one look at the darkness outside his window made him change his mind back.

"Hi, I survived! Barely!" he greeted his friend who had answered the phone.

"Guess what?" Jake replied anxiously. "I bugged Jamie for a while until she told me more about that movie. The guy was a child murderer who killed tens of kids twenty years ago, until the parents found out who he is and tracked him down and burned him alive! And, and...Now he's worse because he can get you if you're simply afraid of him!"

"Wicked!" Hunter stated from the bottom of his heart, and switched the phone on his other ear. But that actually explained why they'd been safe so far – they hadn't known about it and therefor not been afraid, he thought and the horror deep inside him grew, if even possible, even stronger. "We need to see the rest of that movie, Jake! You know...to...study how real it is," he said, making up an excuse to watch the rest of the forbidden movie and to encourage himself to do so. After all, of course there was no way to study such a matter by simply watching the movie.

"Yeah, we really do. But I have a better idea for a start. Let's go to the library tomorrow and see if they have any american newspapers from twenty years ago," Jake suggested.

"On the lunch break, okay? They won't call our parents if we skip just one afternoon," Hunter added to the suggestion, wishing to start the inverstigation as soon as possble.

"...Hope so..." Jake muttered, which Hunter took as a yes.

"Well, we'll just ask someone to make up a little story about why we had to leave unexpectedly. We still have the substitute teacher tomorrow, don't we? She'll believe it without mentioning it to the headmaster, " he stated in an optimistic tone.

"Great! What could possibly go wrong?" Jake's spirit was lifted and his question's tone rather a statement.

"Absolutely nothing, mate!" Hunter assured, and now with a clear plan they were able to turn their discussion to more pleasent topics, such as their new Halloween costumes and Christmas wish lists.  
Around eight, as Hunter was laughing at Jake's mother's suggestion for his Halloween costume – (a mouse, as she herself was terribly afraid of all rodents and didn't understand how everyone wasn't) - Jacob knocked on the closed door and opened it.

"If anything, you could be Ratigan from The Great Mouse Detective, but even that would be lame for our age," Hunter stated, still amused at the mental image of his fellow horror fan dressed up as a pathetic cutesy mouse among zombies, ghosts, pirates, demons and other awrsomeness. Jacob walked in with a large mug of hot liquid that gave off faint blue steam, and Hunter made a disgusted face – definitely not hot chocolate. The man laid the mug on the night stand.

"Don't forget. Drink it before it gets cold," he said quietly, looking at his son and pointing at the potion. The boy knew the rules of the potion perfectly well, but no harm in reminding when the child was busy with something fun. Jacob left right away, didn't stay to see him drink it, even though there had been a serious incident last winter. After all, the boy had taken the potion relatively unhesitantly and obidiently every night ever since, much more so than ever before. The trust had been earned back by now, for most parts anyway.  
Hunter zoned out for a few moments, even though Jake was explaining something. He stared at the steaming potion, trying to think of ways to avoid it even though he fully well knew there wasn't any. It didn't help to think that there would be four more nights before the lovely four weeks of potionless days. He loved being a werewolf, loved it beyond words to describe. If it wasn't for that potion and the pain during the transformation, it would be perfect condition.

"Hold that thought, I'll be back in a moment," he said and laid the phone on his bed, pulled himself up to cross-sitting position, and glared at the mug.  
Well, better sooner ot later. Just get it over with!

As usual, he forced his shaking hand towards the mug with an ugly expression on his face.  
Think of mint-flavoured hot chocolate, coconut milk, Fanta, any and every drink you've ever loved! He told himself determinately, closed his eyes tight and drew a deep breath as he lifted the mug to his lips and held his breath so he wouldn't have to smell that it wasn't any of those drinks.  
_Imposssible!_ His thoughts screamed as he poured the liqquid down his throat, trying hard not to spit it out. Because it tasted like what he'd imagine the fluid from a distressed skunk would taste like. No, in fact even that would have to taste like strawberry juice compared to this.  
He'd chosen the habit of taking it in one long drink instead of little by little. As almost unbearable as it was, that way it would be over sooner. When the mug was finally empty, he sat there holding the cup, shuttering with disgust. Whoever first said that you can get used to _anything_, was clearly brainless. Yet this drink was nothing compared to the indescribable pain of the transformation.

"Okay. I'm still alive," he spoke into the speaker, still sounding a little sickly, as he picked up the phone.

"What did you do?" Jake questioned curiously.

"You don't want to know..." Hunter replied, still disgusted. He wished he could have some chocolate or something but he would have to wait a minute or so. Actually, he thought, Jake might want to know. He was almost as big of a horror fan as he was. He would probably find his werewolfness totally cool and awesome like he himself did. But dad had strictly prohibited him from telling anyone, absolutely anyone. Without his permission anyway. And so far there hadn't been anyone he'd especially much wanted to tell. Partially he simply respected his father in this matter but mainly he just found it very exciting to be secretly a werewolf.

About half an hour later he was sitting at the dining room table, munching away a dark cucumber sandwhich, his eyes scanning the TV guide for next week so he wouldn't miss out on anything. But mostly his eyes longingly returned to tonight's programs late night listing...Five to midnight _Silver Butllet_ would start. Too bad that stupid red number eighteen right next to the title alarmed any parent about the recommended viewer age even if they hadn't seen it or anything. He was sure though that his dad had seen this movie. After all the man was somewhat into horror as well, especially Halloween – though nowhere near the enthusiastic that he himself was. Hunter was tempted to ask if they could video tape the film and he could watch it during the day, but in the end decided it would be waste of breath. That was allowed only sometimes, if a movie was classified for sixteen-year olds and up, and was more of a horror comedy...and even then only if dad had seen it and knew what it was like.

"Dad," the boy said, remembering something else he'd meant to ask all night. "Do we still have any dark arts books?" he asked, raising his eyes to his father who just walked in from the kitchen with a cup of tea.

"I believe they're somewhere in the cellar, yes," Jacob answered as he sat down at the opposite side of the table.

"Can I look into them, all of them?" Hunter asked, innocent and hopeful look on his face. He'd taken a look at some of them a couple of years ago. There was an old Defense Against Dark Arts book from dad's year at Hogwarts in the '60s, and a lot of books from what seemed like ancient times. Books that belonged to his great-grandfather who'd been an auror for many decades.

"Not all," Jacob replied, after a moment of thought to the contents of the collection, "But most, I believe will be fine. I have another day off tomorrow. I'll find them for you."

"Awesome! Thanks!" Hunter said, his face lighting up. More sources to cover in the investigation, much better than any old smelly newspapers might be. Apart from not being able to sleep, this could turn out to be the best Halloween yet!

"So, how was the sleepover? What did you guys do?" Jacob asked, leaning his chin on his hand while waiting for his tea to cool a little, and looking at his son who turned the page of the magazine to find comic strips.

The first thing that came to Hunter's mind was of course the one thing he couldn't say, but he also wanted to forget about it until lunch break tomorrow. Unfortunately it had become the thing he remembered much more vividly than anything else from the visit, at least at first.

"Umm..." he tried to recall all the fun had before that point. "It was great!" he then started, "We painted his walls with all kinds of ghosts and goblins, and after sunset we went outside to film the first scenes in our horror movie!" he explained enthusiastically while finishing his sandwhich, "It's going really well!"

"I'm sure it'll be great," Jacob commented sincerelly. Of course a film made by ten-year olds with a home video camera and the smallest budget in the history of film making couldn't possibly be anything special in film standards, but he never knew a kid more passionate about horror than his boy. And Hunter was also very creative and had a very rich imagination. He could easily impress with very little to work with, when the subject matter was something he loved. And their pre-production had been long, started in mid-summer and apparently eneded recently, and of what he'd heard, the boys had worked on it actively.

"Mrs. Williams took us shopping last night, for Halloween decorations. They're almost done for this year at their house," Hunter changed the subject as memories rushed through his mind. "They have a really, really, really awesome giant spider on their rear yard! It's huuuuge, like, a mini-dinosaur! Can we have one, too? Please please please!?" The boy could hardly stay on his chair.

"We'll see," Jacob answered in a calming tone, "Don't get your hopes up, though. Freya must have a fun Halloween, too, and you know her fear of spiders hasn't gone anywhere."

"Oh, so what?" Hunter snorted and made a disregarding hand gesture, "She needs to face her fears sometime! I''ll be happy to help her with that...!" he grinned to himself, his eyes darting towards the dining room doorway and the entrance hall.

"I know you are," Jacob stated with a little smile, "but think thrice before you do. I don't want any chaos this Halloween," he reminded in more serious tone.

"Mmmmhh..." Hunter replied, to show that he'd heard him, but not wanting to make any promises he might not be able to keep, as he got to his feet and made his way to the kitchen before starting on the comic strips.

"I'm visiting Diagon Alley tommorow," Jacob remembered, as he started to pull together his own sandwhich. "If you want to come along, be home by 5:30."

"Cool! I will," Hunter answered excitedly. Short school day - even if not permitted, thrilling investigations, and a trip to London's wizarding society's main shopping area around Halloween time! Best. Monday. Ever!

"Hey, hey, hey! Not now," Jacob commanded as he caught from the corner of his eye, Hunter breaking a can of coke free from one of the six-packs in the fridge.

"But I _need_ it!" the boy insisted, looking back at him, his hand still on the can half out of the package.

"No means no, Hunter," Jacob sighed, but with a puzzled and slightly worried expression on his face as he observed that of genuinely desperate on his son's face. As if the child really felt like he needed a soda instead of simply wanting one. "They're for the Halloween party on Thursday, remember? But first and foremost it's almost nine o'clock so if you're done, it's off to bed, young man. Not the time for sugar and caffeine," he added in a gentle but determined tone.  
Hunter gave a frustrated sigh and relucantly put the soda package back in the fridge and closed the door. How am I supposed to keep myself alive without coke? He thought while a shadow fell across his face. The out loud mentioned bedtime had made the possible reality of what the movie called Freddy Krueger, feel somehow even more terrifying.

"Fine...Maybe I'll survive..." the boy mumbled under his breath as he dragged himself across the kitchen and dining room, making his way upstairs.  
Jacob stared after him for a while and scratched his head, wondering could this possibly be just about the werewolf movie they all knew he was not going to see tonight? Or was there something else he should know about, because that little man had not rebelled against bed times for years. Well, at least as far as he was aware. He brushed it aside, deciding that he'd find out soon enough. They'd always had a very close relationship, and though he was sure there were things the boy had kept from him – everyone had things they didn't want to share with anyone – he was also fairly sure the boy genuinely felt he could tell him anything he wanted to. And even the things the boy might choose to hide, he could find out if he felt he really needed to – after all he wasn't a highly accomplished former detective for nothing, and children weren't that great in hiding their troubles anyway.

"When was the last time you remember having a nightmare?" Hunter asked, as he stood in the batheroom, squeezing tooth paste on his tooth brush alongside his sister who was already brushing her teeth.

"I don't," Freya replied before washing her teeth with water. "I guess...Last winter? See, unlike you, I like to go to bed with happy thoughts instead of ghouls and mischief on my mind!" she grinned at her brother.

"What? I didn't mean I have nightmares. I never do!" Hunter stated, half joking, just before starting to brush his teeth.

"Liar!" Freya accused but her tone was rather amused and gentle as she poked him on his side.

"Really!" he insisted, moving a couple of steps away. "I'm not scared if I have bad dreams, they're more like thrillers," he explained and then continued brushing. He completely ignored whatever nightmares he might have had when he was very little, and had succesfully repressed from his memory any that involved the death of his family members which he found anything but thrilling.

"Sure," she commented, rolling her eyes as she put her tooth brush back into a mug in the mirror-door cabinet.

"I know you think you're part monster, because of the wolf," she added, "but to me you're still just my dear, impossible big brother," she stated and quickly kissed his cheek. "Good night!" she wished as she left the bathroom.

"Nyah!" Hunter respnded as he stuck his tongue out at her back, but he couldn't help but smile a little right after, a warm happy smile. As much as he wanted to be a lot of things, he still above all was grateful for and loved the fact that his family – except his mother – was able to think of him and the wolf as seperate beings and hadn't treated him any different since the night he was bitten. Most of the time this appreciation however, was only subconscious, and surfaced in little moments like these.

A little later he was lying in bed under covers, all ready and tired. Yawning endlessly, desperately trying to keep in mind all the methods he'd just come up with to try and stay awake without cola's aid. He was just very afraid that he'd fall asleep anyway at some point of he night, as he was mostly used to getting the recommended ten hours of sleep or in the least nine - on weekends sometimes even twelve. It was easy to stay awake with a friend and fun activities or either one of those, as was the case last night at the sleepover. But tonight he was on his own. The all-night-long phone call plan had to be forgotten after a second thought to it, as it was more than likely that it would wake up the parents no matter how quickly answered.  
After good-night wishes from and to his father, Hunter turned the lamp on his night stand towards the wall so its light wouldn't be seen so easily from the crack under the door and kept himself awake and sharp by trying to beat his records on Nintendo Game &amp; Watch games with the sound turned off. Until later he no longer heard anyone moving in the house. Glancing at his Batman alarm clock that said 11:30, he decided everyone must've been asleep by now.

He was left running from his fear, alone.

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DISCLEIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter universe but it belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't own A Nightmare on Elm Street or any of its characters but they belong to all their rightful owners. This is non-profit fanfiction for educational, commenting and entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intented.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N** This story may end up being a bit longer than five chapters, after all. Possibly seven or eight chapters. Because originally I intended to include the night and the entire following day in this chapter and keep on that pattern, but...then I changed my mind. Let me know if you'd like longer chapters. Also, this story won't be my best writing...I think I'm much better with one-shot stories, which by the way is my usual style. **A/N**

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**FIELDS OF INNOCENCE**

**Chapter 1**

Hunter knew he couldn't stay in bed, too warm and soft and comfortable. He would surely end up dead that way, so the boy put away the game, moved aside the black Batman sheets and laid his bare feet on the soft white small carpet next to his bed. He took a quick look at himself, considering to get dressed again since he wasn't going to sleep at all tonight. Besides, these flannel pyjamas were way to comfortable and daytime clothing would maybe trick his brain to think it wasn't the time to sleep. But then decided it would be easier to come up with an excuse if caught, if he kept nightwear on. So he left his Mickey Mouse &amp; Friends pyjamas on, that had loose-fitting dark-blue trousers and a loose-fitting white long-sleeved shirt with dark blue sleeves. He only put on white socks as it was almost winter time, the house was old and the semi-brown walnut parquet floor was a little bit cool, and then picked up his flash-light but did not turn it on yet and quietly paced to the door that had been left slightly open. He peeked through to see his dad's room's door directly opposite to his, completely closed. He glanced back at the night stand where he'd forgotten the little lamp's light on but chose to leave it that way. He'd much rather return to a room if there was some light on.  
The boy pinched himself one more time to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep, hoping that eventually he'd manage to reassure himself in some other way or else his arms would be very sore after a few nights. He slipped through the doorway into the upstairs hall and listened carefully. The house was silent apart from the ticking clocks, but he pressed his ear on his father's bedroom door anyway. No sound didn't necessarily mean he was asleep though, so the boy opened the door very quietly and peeked in. Yes, there he was, apparently asleep. Downstairs would be clear and all his if he just managed to keep quiet.

Soon he was sitting in the living-room on their dark blue convertible sofa, one opened and one still sealed cola can on the table. The flash-light laid beside him, turned off as he'd turned on the floorlamp next to the sofa. Partof their six-by-four living-room was slightly lighted by the nearly-full moon, through the pane decorated glass patio doors. On the front side where the sofa sat, there was a street lamp directly in front of their house next to a young tree, but its light didn't reach across their few meters long front yard, because of the tall hedges on the red tile wall on both sides of the gate and the big bush partially in front of the living-room window. But he was comfortable enough with the lighting, not wanting to turn on the roof light in case dad woke in the middle of the night for some reason.  
Flipping through a movie magazine he noticed that about a year ago a Commodore 64 game had been released, related to the third movie in the Nightmare on Elm Street series. What little was told about it made him want to try it, as it sounded quite interesting, but on the other hand it was now the one horror genre game in existence that a part of him never wanted to touch. At least not before he'd find out more about the origins of the movie.

Wishing to stay sharp and awake but not be haunted by the movie, he needed total distraction. Dad had of course put the computer away but fortunately not further than on the lowest level of the tv stand. Hunter set it up again and while waiting for the game to load, he pulled the sofa table closer to the gaming spot and fetched some fruits and a bag of cheddar cheese flavoured tortilla chips for snacks. Finally he seated himself in a big, light blue bean bag chair in front of the tv and lost himself into the exciting adventures in _Wizard of Wor_. Despite of it being horror related what with all its maze-like dungeons and colourful range of monsters, it was perfect. You didn't have to just run from them, you had to shoot them all up and there were all kinds of cool creatures; wolf-like, scorpion-like, insect-like and t-rex types, and blue wizards that surely were nothing like real ones...but he imagined they were Death Eaters, the dark wizards from the long war that had ended when he was a baby. Though the graphics were nowhere near as great as in some Nintendo games he'd played, as this was one originally developed for Atari 2600 platform, it was nonetheless very exciting and with his rich imagination it came alive in his mind in spectacular ways. Even though he couldn't have the sound on now. Deep in his imagination he didn't hear the bleeps and crashing sounds of the game but the gunshots and mighty roars and yells and hisses of the monsters. The awesome colourful flash effects made it all the more fascinating and intense, although kind of broke the illusion of dark dungeons. Very soon he forgot about Freddy and even where he himself was, feverishly guiding the joystick, picking it up as if it was really a gun, as he progressed further and further and the enemies moved faster and faster, multiplying on each level.

Fifteen minutes later the grandfather clock boomed twelve times but he didn't register it at all. He'd advanced far, only a few hundred points from his current record. That's when his wolf hearing picked up knocking on one of the four windows opening to the front, even through the loud world of sounds in his imagination and high concentration on the game. He turned his attention to the window, but there was only darkness. Or that's what his busy mind first thought until he registered that the yard light was on.  
That meant, someone or something had just been out there, on their yard.  
Right behind the window, as they didn't have a tree next to it that could've knocked its branches on it.  
The boy put down the joystick, not caring that his last Worrior was being brutally butchered by a band of monsters, and on all fours approached the windows less than two meters away from him. Slowly he rose on his knees, one hand on the warm radiator and another on the window ledge, very cautiously peeking outside, only the top of his head and his eyes visible to whoever might be looking in. Nothing moving was visible outside, but he had a bad feeling that he wasn't alone. He sat back down so that he was hidden under the window ledge and turned to face the back of the room, the patio doors. He was relieved to find that the rear yard was still dark apart from some moonlight cast over the patio. But the rear yard was huge, twenty-by-seventeen or so. There was plenty of room for things to hide.  
Quickly he reached for the tv and turned it off, leaving only the floor lamp on. He didn't feel like pinching himself again as there was no way, he thought, he would've fallen asleep playing that game and pumping coke into his system. A possible burglar would be nothing compared to Freddy. Besides, no one could force their way into this house without causing a lot of noise. A lot. Of noise. Because their locks had been made stronger by magic – they couldn't be opened even with most of the spells for the purpose, much less picked open with muggle tools. And it was impossible to break through windows as they were all classic style, downstairs with panes and upstairs with cross-pattern framework. So if someone tried to break in, surely dad would awake well before it was too late. But, then, why would a burglar knock on the window and anyway try to break in knowing there was someone awake in the house?  
Maybe they tried to lure him out, out of the way? Or maybe it was a hag! Maybe they did come to muggle areas more when Halloween was around the corner. And it was over midnight, he added to himself as he glanced at the grandfather cock. Wasn't this the time of ghosts and all kinds of ghouls? Hopefully only in muggles' stories. At that thought, the motion-detecting yard light turned on also on the rear yard. Way over there at the back. Something was definitely lurking around, interested in their house it seemed.  
He thought of waking his dad, but then again, dealing with this on his own would be an effective way to stay awake. Actually, probably the only way, because dad would send him to bed and probably not go back to sleep himself.

Regardless of the house being well protected against forceful entering and his dad sleeping upstairs, Hunter felt a bit insecure without a wand. After all, he didn't know everything about every possible magical creature that could exist. But he didn't own a wand yet, dad had agreed to buy him one for his eleventh birthday – whether he would leave to Hogwarts or not. Of course, though he knew a lot of spells and curses in theory, he had never successfully cast any as he hadn't been actually allowed to use a wand at this young age thus not getting practice in controlling his powers. While whatever little he'd managed to secretly practice with a friend's older sibling's wand...hadn't gone so well because...well, they say wands choose their owners and not the other way around and get even more personalized as the years went by with the chosen witch or a wizard.  
The boy listened carefully, holding his breath and remaining absolutely motionless, leaning against the radiator though it was remarkably hot especially through the thing fabric of his pyjama shirt. He heard footsteps on the rear yard, approaching the house. He felt as if there was no walls or patio doors in between him and whatever or whoever the intruder was. Before he even realized, he'd stumbled on his feet and was running upstairs, and stopped at the top of the staircase. He'd forgotten the flash-light. Well, the wolf's vision would have to be enough then. Softly but quickly he paced along the hallway to the one where his and his dad's rooms were and entered his dad's. For a moment he stood there silently, thinking of possible places where his wand could be. He knew the man carried it with him every day whenever leaving the house for a longer period of time, so it should be somewhere near.  
Of course he knew he couldn't cast any spells with it any more successfully than with any other wand that hadn't chosen him, but at least it was a rowan wand – one of those that had strengths in defensive and protective spells. Maybe it would decide to help him if needed, maybe it would recognize that he was its owner's child. Although him and his dad weren't especially much alike in personalities, they were to some extent and anyway, in the very deepest, he was his father's son.  
The boy tiptoed to check the drawers of the night stand and very quietly opened the top drawer. Glancing at his sleeping father, he reached into the drawer and felt around. Soon his hand found what he was looking for and squeezed it tightly. He closed the drawer and hurried out of the room, not only because Jacob turned to his side and he was afraid he'd wake the man up if he lingered any longer, but also because who knows where the intruder was by now.

Back in the hallway, he closed the door behind him and listened. Closkc ticking, the autumn wind howling through the roof. Quietly he made his way to the railing of the staircase, and with the wand ready as well as a spell on his mind, he looked over it, viewing part of the entrance hall and part of the doorway to the living-room, the light of the floorlamp not quite reaching it from the angle he was looking in. Nothing moved, but then he had a terrible thought. If it was after him, it could be after Freya, too. And could very well go for her first, her being the one unaware. The boy ran to his sister's door that was slightly open as it usually was during the night. Through the crack he saw her sleep peacefully in her bed, in the completely dark room as all curtains had been closed. Alive indeed, he was sure, as he could easily hear her breathing when concentrating on listening. To make sure she was alone, he opened the door wide and scanned the room with his eyes, even stepped in to check under the bed, with his father's wand ready to fire whatever it would in his hands. A few seconds later he was glad there wasn't anything under the bed because that unpredictable spell could've really been dangerous with her sister sleeping on the bed.  
After clearing her room, Hunter started to feel it be better to stay there on the second floor, with her family. But he would still need to go downstairs for a while to clean after himself. Oh, how he wished he could do it with a wave of a wand from right here.  
Squeezing the wand in his right hand, he progressed down slowly, step by step, constantly straining his hearing, focusing it around the entire house. Silence. But he still had the creepy feeling that he wasn't alone with his family. Deciding to trust the security of the house as much as he usually did, magical monsters out there or not, just so he could get back upstairs as soon as possible, he took a deep breath and entered the living room. It took a bit longer to put away the computer and pull the sofa table back to its usual place when all he had to use was his left hand. No way he would lay down his weapon even for a second!  
In the dark kitchen where the four windows faced the rear yard, putting away the unopened and empty cans of coke and the half-full bag of tortilla chips he noticed the rear yard light turned on, again. At least they were still outside. Maybe they were leaving. Maybe they'd noticed him run off, believing he'd wake up his parents.

All done, the boy hurried through the kitchen, the dining room and entrance hall, all the way to the living-room to turn off the floor lamp and finally get to better safety that was upstairs.  
The moment he turned it off and stared into the moonlit patio, he froze to the spot, unsure of if he was imagining it. After all the room was six meters long and the frames of the panes in the patio doors made it a bit harder to see clearly anywhere but straight ahead. Pacing closer, he became more and more sure that there was something, something was lying on the ground mostly outside the moonlight's reach, in the darkness. As he reached the door and pressed his nose against one of the panes, he came to the conclusion that it looked like a foot. A bare dirty foot of an adult human. Even in the distress and newly-found fear of Freddy Krueger, the horror fan inside him thought how cool it would be if it was an alien instead. One of the things which existence no one had been able to prove, in this world of magic and creatures.

Fear and curiosity both tugged at his mind and heart, equally strong. The wand in his hand gave him the courage to turn the lock in the door but he didn't push either of them open right away. He kept an eye on the foot, in case the sound of the lock would stir it. But it remained perfectly still.  
The boy opened the door just enough to fit himself out and stepped on the cold tile of the patio area. Shaking a little, both our of fear and the cold air, he approached the figure step by step, unable to hurry as much as he really wanted to.  
He crouched down an arm's length from the foot and poked it with the wand, which gave off silver sparks. He wasn't intending to try any spells, he was just very, very afraid. The foot remained ever still, so Hunter walked back to the patio and turned on one of the black lantern-type of lamps on both sides of it. The bright light revealed indeed a man lying lifelessly on the lawn. He was bloody and rotting, and his clothes were torn and dirty. Hunter stared in horror and wanted to scream but the sound was stuck in his throat. Just before he would've run back inside, he registered who it was. It was Ripper. The boy sighed in relief. Just a life-sized zombie decoration doll they've got last year and he had named after the famous real life serial killer who terrified London in the nineteenth century. Of course he knew almost nothing about the case, especially not what a prostitute was, nor did he care much. In his mind the man had been simply killing women, and the nickname had felt like a good choice for a walking dead decoration. After all, Jack the Ripper was never caught, his identity forever lost in the mists of history. Maybe he really had become a zombie? There were real zombies in the world. Though, only in a certain region of South-Africa, but still!  
But then, he registered another fact. Ripper had been on the front yard when he came home yesterday. And it most certainly did not walk on its own. Someone or something had _moved_ it here.

Then he heard it. A horrible, ear-piercing screeching sound, like a knife scratched against metal. Slowly he turned his face to the sound's direction and laid his eyes on a dark figure standing near the double-swing set on the playground area of their yard. It was all the way back, next to the garden shed, some twenty meters away so in the darkness he couldn't see who it was or if it was an adult or a teenager. But its body built was certainly a man's. He stared at it, wide-eyed and felt it gazing back at him. It just stood there but it definitely moved. It was scratching something against the swing set's metal poles. Hunter took a step back, towards the patio doors, as his brain started to register what it was. That glove, that hat...He should've known it! You can't test if you're asleep or not by just pinching yourself, because pain can be felt in a dream world!  
The boy screamed at the top of his lungs and ran back inside, slamming the patio doors shut behind him and continued running until he found himself in his sister's room again. Not wanting to put her in harm's way he stumbled into the study that separated her room from their father's. Knowing that Krueger could appear out of thin air at any moment, he tried to curl up, make himself as small as possible as he sat down on the floor against the radiator under the three windows facing the front yard. It was a good spot, enough room to start running again. Something inside him reminded that it didn't matter if he was really still in his bed. That's where he would die no matter where he went from here.

Nothing happened for what felt like minutes, but it didn't exactly relax him. The movie had made clear that Freddy liked to toy with his victims, quite long too, before going for the kill. A moment later he couldn't bear sitting there all alone, but moved over to his father's room and sat on the floor at the foot of his bed and again curled up into as small ball as possible, squeezing the wand in his hand tighter than ever before.  
Minutes passed, the house remained silent. The presence of his father made him let go of the fear a little, be this dream or not. Soon he began to feel secure enough to move a muscle. And to suspect that this may have been a prank by the neighbourhood teenagers who had been at the wrong end of his pranks over the years. Yes, yes it was entirely possible, he thought to himself. Jamie could've spread the word that he and Jake had seen a bit of that movie.

"Assholes," he said out loud but quietly, as if to reassure himself that it was the case. Just a prank. He could've taken it with humour if the subject matter wasn't this terrifying. He just couldn't find anything funny about it. Still, after realizing back there on the rear yard that the line between dream and real world might not be so easily seen, he couldn't make himself stand up or go to his own room alone.

Later he startled, feeling as if waking up from sleep, though still sitting in the same spot in his father's room. Just much more relaxed, almost lying down. Had he actually fallen asleep and not died? Was this a dream-within-a-dream thing going on? How the hell would he survive this if he was getting confused and going crazy during the first night? The boy breathed heavily and deep, not knowing what to expect or do next.  
He counted to ten, then rose on his feet and looked at the digital clock on the night stand. It was only 00:30. If he had fallen asleep it couldn't have been more than about twenty minutes or so. Maybe Krueger had been haunting someone else's dreams then.

This is just too much, he thought. There had to be ways to check for sure if you're dreaming or not. He didn't know much about dreams, but now he guessed it was the time to learn. Apart from the obvious fact that dreams can be totally crazy in contents as well as almost like reality without any wildly imaginative stuff, he knew that sometimes people may have so-called lucid dreams where they're aware of that they're dreaming and thus can control what they do, and out of personal experience he knew that sometimes dreams felt very real right down to feeling pain. What he didn't know was if those two kinds of dreaming could combine in some way, and whatever else there might be. He stepped back into the study, in hopes to find useful books about dreams. He knew they had at least a couple, but one of them was just for interpreting dreams. That one, he knew was in the living-room bookcase, and hoped from the bottom of his little heart that the other would be up here. Going back downstairs was out of the question.  
A few minutes later he came across a large book all about dreams, and laid it down on the carpet, laying himself down on it as well and started to look through the table of contents.  
Checking through a few chapters that might offer answers, he finally found tips to check if he was dreaming or not. His heart lightened a lot when he realized he'd actually done many of them already. First of all, he was reading this book without any problems. And had looked at a digital clock which had shown perfectly normal time. And generally nothing had seemed out of ordinary, certainly not his body parts. Soon enough he was happily convinced that he was awake, had been all night or at least most of it. Still, a suspicion naggered inside him, whether the moment on the rear yard had been in dream world or reality. Well, he decided, the most important thing was that now he was awake and could start over in efforts to stay that way.

Unfortunately, being terrified was exhausting and there was still hours to go before morning and all the mandatory activities. Reading most certainly wasn't a way to escape sleep, so he closed the book and pushed it back on the shelf. Sighning deep, he sat there for a while, suddenly feeling very sad. Until now, he had never known to appreciate the ability and right to sleep. And now it was taken from him forever. Kind of.  
He was fingering the wand in his hands, looking down he pondered if he should still hold on to it and slip it back to the drawer before seven in the morning when dad usually woke up.  
No. The only reason he'd taken it in the first place was because he thought someone was trying to get in the house. A wand would probably, likely, be useless against Freddy. Unless in a lucid dream...Hey, there's an idea! Learn to have lucid dreams – maybe then one could survive some sleep time.  
He tiptoed over to the night stand and slipped the wand back to the drawer, then slipped out of the room, over the hallway and into his own.

Hours passed slowly. But he ended up having fun with a couple of hours more hand-held video games, a few colouring pages from various Disney colouring books, and thinking up and writing down new ideas and plans for scenes in their upcoming horror movie. Half past six he heard his father's alarm clock's loud beeping and crawled back to his bed, switching off all the lights. The darkness that fell bothered him, but only for a moment as soon enough he heard his dad moving around in his room. Now, he thought, maybe it would be safe enough to sleep just a little. When a trusted adult was awake and would immediately hear if he was having the most terrifying nightmare, and come wake him up. He'd still have from thirty minutes up to an hour before dad would come around waking him up anyway. It would be nice to get at least that much sleep, or else the trip to Diagon Alley tonight might end up wasted for being too tired to enjoy it.

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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DISCLEIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter universe but it belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't own A Nightmare on Elm Street or any of its characters but they belong to all their rightful owners. This is non-profit fanfiction for educational, commenting and entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intented.


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